


Recession

by HouseOfFinches



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Empath, F/M, Flirting, Jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 03:16:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13731975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouseOfFinches/pseuds/HouseOfFinches
Summary: Wanda and Vision join up with Steve and T’Challa after being attacked in the street. They’re joined by the Guardians group.





	Recession

The Wakanda base was sleek, metal and glass glinting like dripstones in a cavern. Despite the windowed walls, the room felt small, oppressive with the number of bodies anxiously taking up space.

Natasha was perched on a chair by the door, surveying the room, always processing.

Steve, inversely, was pacing, the need for movement, for action, driven into his very DNA.

And Vision was motionless, laid out on the sterile metal table at the edge of the makeshift operating room.

People she didn’t know rushed about, whirling carts with medical screens, issuing an unconscious gnawing at her stomach.

There was so much to process. She didn’t know where to begin.

More people entered the room, beings that didn’t seem to belong to this world. A green woman, a formidable looking man, a walking tree. A man in a leather jacket, a woman with antennae.

A talking raccoon?

They struck up a conversation with Steve, the atmosphere becoming more dense with tension.

She didn’t have time to think about them. She didn’t have the mental energy to waste on them, either. This was the time to prioritize, and they were at the bottom of her list.

The adrenaline hadn’t yet worn off, not fully, her muscles still called for her to run, to fight. Images of Vision scared, in pain, were seared into memory, flashing into her forethought like a crackling current.

That was her priority: him, and finding the creatures that had done this and destroying them.

But that would have to wait.  
Time would have to pass.

People came and left, a tidal scurrying of scrubs and lab coats.

The rush of medical staff dispersed, taking their wheeled machinery with them, the sound of the tires a piercing whine against the charged quiet.

She stood by him then, when all had settled, appreciating the handiwork of the surgeon. The hole that had marred his flesh was stitched closed, a neat line of thread binding his skin together.

It seemed he would be alright. But she learned, long ago, not to let hope settle too long in her heart. Things had attacked them, things that seemed drawn to the stone embedded in his flesh, things that would be back to finish what they started.

He stirred, a crease in his brow and his lips pulled into a hard line. With a heavy breath he opened his eyes.

“Wanda..” he sighed when he saw her, relief washing over his face and over her nerves. He reached to touch her, draw her closer, one hand resting against her cheek. She let herself lean into him, lean into the safety of the knowledge that he was okay, that he was here with her.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, unsure what the healing process entailed for him. She’d never seen him injured, not like this.

He brought himself up to his elbows. He paused a moment to consider her question, to size up his body.

“I feel fine.” He pressed his fingers along the incision.

“Perhaps a little sore,” he corrected, wincing.

A little sore was good. It meant he was alive. She couldn’t resist the urge to have him against her, to feel his heat against her chest.

Hope crept in despite her best efforts.

****

Vision did appear to feel fine, as he was up and walking about not long after the whole procedure was finished.

His mood reflected hers, a quiet wariness that was precariously balanced somewhere between fight and flight.

They sat together, though distinctly not touching, along a white leather sofa. Wanda wasn’t sure if Steve had guessed as to why she and Vision had been together when they were attacked.

Steve was in discussion with Thor, who arrived shortly after the others, looking considerably more battle-worn than when she last saw him. The man in the leather jacket, Peter, was also part of the conversation.

Wanda caught the gist of their conference, piecing words together from their jumbled thoughts.

_Thanos, gauntlet, stones, army._

_War._

She shut them out, unwilling and unable to process it all. The world had shifted too quickly for her to keep up. She had only just come into her own happiness. This didn’t feel right, it didn’t feel fair. Bitterness slid along her veins, red tendrils threatening to spill from her fingers. She wanted something, someone, to pay for threatening her haven, her heart.

Vision sensed her tension and gave a soft pat on her thigh, grounding her to the world again, to him. His touch lingered until one of the new people approached them. It was the antennae woman, her face earnest, inviting, despite its alienness.

Wanda watched the strange woman stare at Vision, awe spreading across her features.

“You were the one that was harmed?” She qustioned, concern and doubt furrowing her brow. It was obvious she didn’t know _what_ Vision was.

“Yes,” Vision responded, his hands folded neatly in his nap, his face a kind neutral. This woman might seem friendly but they were new to this planet and Wanda was wary of their intentions.

“I am glad you are not seriously harmed. My name is Mantis,” she turned to look at the small group huddled in deep debate. “I stayed with them, when they helped me escape Ego. He was killing his children,” she faced them again, her features still fixed in cheery innocence.

Wanda glanced at Vision to find him looking at her, confusion threatening to pull down his mouth.

“I’m Wanda and this is Vision. We are with the Avengers.” She paused, hesitating. “Well, I was. It’s.. complicated,” she settled.

“It is nice to meet you. Do you mind?” Mantis offered her hand to Vision, sparking an emotion in Wanda she didn’t fully recognize.

Vision was nothing if not polite, responding in kind. The sight of his long steady fingers wrapped around the strange woman’s set a burning in Wanda’s stomach. She worked hard not to let the sudden anger show on her face.

Wanda watched the woman’s eyes flutter closed, a smile slowly spread across her face.

“You are.. like nothing else,” the woman breathed, unconsciously shifting closer to Vision. She stared up at him, eyes wide. “So clear, so pure,” she smiled. She hadn’t removed her hand from his.

It was enough, Wanda decided, letting down the gate of her telepathy. She wanted to know this woman’s intentions, she told herself. It certainly not a product of jealousy to allow her to peek into the Mantis’ mind. After all, this woman was new to them, who knew what kind of plan she may have.

And in that mind Wanda found wonder and awe at the feelings emanating from Vision. Mantis was an empath, and this experience with him was new to her. There was a curiosity to her thoughts, lined with something more, something like intrigue. She saw as the woman’s thoughts shifted, the way she perceived beauty in Vision’s features: the stark red of his skin, the clean lines of his nose, the strength in his hand.

Wanda pulled herself from the stranger’s thoughts, and she felt a spike of adrenaline, a rush of blood to her cheeks and a heat along her skin. Wanda reasoned that others were bound to find Vision appealing. She’d seen it before, the way some women looked at him when he donned his human disguise. But this felt different, oddly intimate, and Wanda couldn’t help but notice Vision’s slow response to remove his hand from Mantis’, the way he looked embarrassed when he responded with a polite, “Thank you.”

He was, admittedly, better at handling the mannered nuances of newcomers than she was. Yet the urge to reach out and hold his hand in hers, to press her body against his, pricked at her nerves, that call for possession, for territory.

“May I?” the woman asked Wanda, extending her small hand out to her. Before Wanda could give a curt response, one of T’Challa’s servants announced that it was meal time. With Mantis distracted, Wanda took the opportunity to stand and remove herself from the woman’s presence.

It had been a long and strange day, to say the least.

As the crowd shuffled out into the corridor, Wanda feinted back. Vision was beside her, instinctively matching her pace, though his gaze remained forward, fixed. They’d fallen into this pattern easily. It reminded her of their time back at the Avengers’ compound. There was part of her that longed for those days still.

As the group took a corner, Wanda held back, leaving just she and Vision in the hall. She pressed him against the wall and kissed him, needy and desperate, jealousy and adrenaline fueling her passion. She almost lost him earlier. There was another fight to come. But in this moment, she could only focus on the way his hands gripped her hips, the toughness of his mouth against hers. He felt it too, that fear, the gnawing worry.

She broke the kiss, breathing heavy against him as she caught her breath. Gently he cupped her face before drawing her against him, his arms twined around her.

“I think Mantis may have a crush on you,” she teased before stepping back to admire the confusion that diffused along his face.

“Oh,” he breathed, his mouth pulling down in thought. Wanda couldn’t help but laugh at his newfound confoundedness. It was relieving to have him by her side again, the familiarity of his thought process, the sound of his laugh joining hers as they made their way to join the others.

She wasn’t sure what the future held but in this moment there was safety, there was him, and there was his fingers wrapped around hers.

 

 

 


End file.
